


The Next Step

by greygerbil



Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: Defending a Partner Who Was Insulted, M/M, Reunion, Twi'lek Sith Inquisitor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-28
Updated: 2020-04-28
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:34:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23839198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greygerbil/pseuds/greygerbil
Summary: Cytharat is in the way of the plans of higher powers, but they cannot stand up to his unexpected protector.
Relationships: Cytharat/Male Sith Inquisitor
Comments: 2
Kudos: 34
Collections: Minigame: Round 1





	The Next Step

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Wallwalker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wallwalker/gifts).



“Makeb is much too important.”

Sil’ven hesitated. The Imperial Citadel had many winding ways and this could at times be quite useful. He was only a few steps away from the room in which he’d been informed the hearing on Lord Cytharat’s further career would be held, but due to a bend in the hallway, Khem Val and him were still not visible to the people inside despite the clear voices promising an open doorway.

“I do know the planet well, though. I do not ask for a command, but I can help whoever is in charge.”

This was Cytharat’s voice, calm and certain as Sil’ven remembered it. He would not be fully healed yet, but he had already been called back from Vaiken Spaceport to Dromund Kaas, where a group of Darths had banded together to direct the operations on Makeb. For Cytharat’s sake, Sil’ven had hoped they had ordered him here to give him the promotion he deserved after putting his life on the line for the Empire, but he knew the politicking of the Sith too well at this point to leave Cytharat’s fate to chance. Cytharat had made a lasting impression on him and not only for smiling through the pain of a dozen bleeding wounds when Sil’ven had kissed him, though that had not hurt.

Due to the way the Sith operated, you rarely had a truly honourable one among them. Sil’ven certainly wasn’t, but he found the trait admirable, in much the same way one might feel inclined to protect a beautiful member of a dying species even though nature’s course would be to leave it to be exterminated by coarser, more effective predators. Regardless, someone who had made it as far in the Empire as Cytharat with such a straight moral compass was remarkable and it had always been Sil’ven’s strategy to let remarkable people show him how far they could go. This was how he had ended up with every single member of his crew.

Of course, so many Sith were small-minded, unable to see the chances in aberration. They might as well have been Jedi with how they clung to their predetermined ideas for how a person should act. It did, in fact, seem like this truth Sil’ven had learned long ago was going to become a roadblock for Cytharat.

“I have an apprentice much better suited to this,” a man said eagerly. “He hasn’t been to Makeb, but he’s never followed a traitor.”

“Lord Cytharat, your will to die for the Empire is inspiring, but you may just have been incompetent,” an icy woman’s voice added. “A blunder is easy to sell as a noble sacrifice in the aftermath.”

“As far as I was told, the report by Darth Nox states that I had proven useful even before that-”

“Be that as it may,” the same voice cut across him. “I vote for Darth Terrin’s apprentice to be the advisor as well.”

“At the very least he seems to be a much brighter man than Lord Cytharat,” an older male voice said. “You should have abandoned Darth Malgus even before he became a traitor. You weren’t advancing under him.”

“He had done much for me. I was glad to be in his employ and thought he had more to teach me,” Cytharat said.

It was unusual stance to take and Sil’ven heard more than one of the others in the room with Cytharat scoffing.

“There is no point to you,” a new male voice said languidly. “What can one accomplish with so little ambition?”

“I do wish to help the Empire succeed, I merely misjudged thinking that Darth Malgus was the best option. Besides, I did owe him a debt for raising me up. Now, however, I am fully at the disposal of the Empire.”

A shrewder man than Cytharat would have abandoned this line of argument, but if Sil’ven had learned anything about Cytharat, it was that he stood his ground.

“They run their mouths so much,” Khem Val rumbled quietly behind him. “The little Sith Lord they talk at fights, at least!”

“You’re not wrong about that,” Sil’ven muttered.

“Sith have no use for refuse like you. You had your chance and whatever busywork you did on Makeb does not make up for your deficiencies in character and judgement,” a deceptively friendly woman’s voice said. “Perhaps you’re good enough to run with some foot soldiers, let them think they’re special. It’d a decent way to make sure people don’t flee from a suicide mission.”

“I would be honoured to support the Imperial troops,” Cytharat answered tightly.

Sil’ven had to grin, but it was only for Cytharat’s tone. He was certain that the man would have been much happier to help out any squad of doomed ragtag conscripts rather than to continue being belittled by a group of Darths who only left Dromund Kaas in pleasure barques.

Time to end their little celebration of imagined superiority. Sil’ven swept around the corner, his dark robes and red cape billowing behind him.

“Darth Nox!”

The woman who sat at the head of the table in front of which Cytharat stood like a school boy saw him first, then all heads turned. Cytharat’s eyes widened in surprise.

Sil’ven knew that he was not a man easily judged correctly at a glance. He carried the title of Dark Council member and was one of the most powerful sorcerers in the empire, but as a twi’lek of short and slight stature with a slave brand, few expected it when they first met him. His blue skin had lightened almost to grey with marks of the Force, but his eyes were still golden, not red. The dark side had not taken him over like so many of his colleagues. He weighed his decisions too carefully for that, manipulated the Force instead of being swept away by it.

Looking at the Darths, he saw in many expressions how they disliked having to bow to one like him, but they had to do so, anyway. Sil’ven watched them closely. He had always enjoyed forcing such people to show their respect.

“Good evening,” Sil’ven said jovially. “I hear we’re discussing the fate of my tactical advisor. Though it seems the opinion of a Dark Council member does not count for much here? I seem to remember I gave a rather glowing report.”

“Well, we...” A human man shrouded in a dark red robe fidgeted with a datapad before him. “Cytharat... Lord Cytharat asked to be stationed on Makeb and really, we have already sent some good people there.”

“The spoils were already distributed between you, who had no hand in taking Makeb,” Sil’ven said, merciless now as he cut through their pleasantries. He’d heard how they spoke to one whom they didn’t fear, their masks were useless to him. “I’m assuming you generally have no interest in having someone with special knowledge of Makeb in any position of power, just in case your apprentices make a mess of things, which Lord Cytharat would be able to point out.”

“You must not think that of us, my lord!” the woman with the friendly voice said.

“Oh, but I fear I must. I have heard enough. Perhaps find a room with a closed door next time,” Sil’ven answered. “I agree with one thing, though: Lord Cytharat certainly doesn’t need to play follower to the upjumped acolytes of Darths who have stranded themselves in meaningless local power struggles on Dromund Kaas. There are greater things in store for him. I will make sure to keep an eye on Makeb alongside him, though, and give my honest opinion of your control over the situation to the Dark Council.”

He smiled, looking them in the eyes one by one to remind them he would remember their faces, before he swerved his gaze to Cytharat.

“Come,” he ordered, simply, placing a hand between his shoulder blades and turning, marching him out of the room with Khem Val at his side.

He stopped only when, through a series of hallways and doors, they had reached his own citadel quarters.

“Excuse the lack of furniture, I am not here often,” he said, as he led the way through a sparsely decorated entrance hall. “I have a Sky Palace on Nar Shaddaa that I much prefer. I should show you some time. This way.”

With a nod he excused Khem Val and ushered the still shell-shocked Cytharat into a guest room, metallic and cavernous like the rest of the building. Finally allowed a moment to gather himself, Cytharat took a deep breath and bowed to Sil’ven.

“Dark Lord – thank you for intervening.”

“That was my pleasure,” Sil’ven said with a sly smile. “You stood up well in there, considering how they talked to you.”

Cytharat lowered his gaze, seemed ashamed for a moment, but then raised his chin.

“It’s not new and at least thanks to you, I knew that I had proven myself to the Empire again. Before this, I could not even deny it when people suspected me of being a traitor.” He brightened a little as he spoke. “No matter if I had still ended up on a dead post or with a suicide mission, _I_ would have known the truth about Makeb.”

“You’re certainly a respectable man, Cytharat. Still, I think you agree it would be a waste to let any of their ideas for you play out. We don’t have enough good men and women as it is.” Sil’ven crossed his arms in front of his chest. “I have connections, I can get you just about any post you would like. However, I must point out that you do owe me a fight.”

“A fight?” Cytharat asked, surprised.

“Yes. You said in your message to me that we should ‘fight as one’ again – but we haven’t even stood on the same battleground yet. I think that mistake must be corrected. You should travel on the _Fury_ for a while. I always find trouble rather quickly. Besides, your standing on Dromund Kass will be much different when you return as the trusted companion of a Dark Council member.”

Smiling, Cytharat cocked his head.

“If this Dark Council member favours me, I will certainly count myself very lucky no matter what anyone else says about it.”

Sil’ven lifted his hand to cup Cytharat’s cheek, running his finger along one of the bone spurs on his face.

“Welcome to the crew,” he said.


End file.
